


The Tenant

by Sarah_Black



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, IKEA Furniture, Older Man/Younger Woman, Sansa the tenant, Shameless Smut, Stannis and his hand is my OTP, Stannis the landlord, Stannis' eternal awkwardness around women, boner angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-04
Updated: 2016-03-06
Packaged: 2018-05-24 16:48:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6160129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarah_Black/pseuds/Sarah_Black
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stannis decides to refurbish his spare room with inexpensive Swedish designs and rent it out. His tenant? Sansa Stark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Screwing Problems

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tommyginger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tommyginger/gifts), [BlueCichlid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueCichlid/gifts), [jimicus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jimicus/gifts).



> Just a bit of a weekend treat inspired by some of the comments on [The Lady of Storm's End.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5728531)
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** GRRM owns it, not me.

Stannis glared at the instructions. The screws he was supposed to be using right now seemed to have disappeared and he had the sinking feeling he had used them earlier on, confusing them with the screws that he now had left over.

Would he really have to unscrew the blasted wardrobe _again?_

With a tortured grimace and a sigh, Stannis set about destroying the progress he had already made, thinking some very choice words that he had tried not to say out loud ever since Shireen was little.

Stannis heard the noise of the front door opening and closing. A few moments passed and then his daughter’s voice rang out. “Dad?”

Stannis abandoned his electric screwdriver and got to his feet with a groan.

“In here,” he called, walking to the door of the spare room Robert had convinced him to let.

_”Come on, you live right next to King’s University and you have a spare room. Sansa doesn’t feel safe staying in the dorms after what happened with Joffrey. I was going to offer her the penthouse but Ned thinks that will spoil her …”_

Stannis understood that Robert felt guilty due to Joffrey’s treatment of Sansa, but he didn’t quite understand why he, Stannis, had ended up assuming the responsibility for making Robert feel better by refurbishing a bedroom. Robert had offered to help pay for the process since Stannis’ assets were still somewhat tied up due to the divorce proceedings, but Stannis had refused point blank. 

It was affordable enough to do it if one shopped in stores that sold furniture in flat boxes.

“This is the room,” Shireen said appearing in the doorway with Sansa Stark in tow.

“It’s not ready,” Stannis hurried to say, feeling flustered and off balance as soon as Ned’s eldest daughter was in his line of vision.

“Yeah, I can tell,” Sansa said with an amused smile, observing the mess of furniture parts and stacks of cardboard boxes. Her eyes were sparkling, and she moved her head in a way that made her long auburn hair catch the light and shine as if she were in a shampoo commercial. She was flawless. Gorgeous. _Stunning._

Gods, how was he going to survive having her _constantly_ around? His apartment wasn’t the biggest in the world, only three bedrooms, one bathroom, a tiny kitchen, and a living room that doubled as a dining room, so it was quite likely that he would see a lot of her.

He noticed Shireen roll her eyes in disgust. That had to mean he was gawping at Sansa like an imbecile, so he attempted to arrange his face into his customary scowl.

“Er, I was just putting together a wardrobe for the room,” Stannis said, clearing his throat awkwardly.

“Need any help?” Sansa offered, already rolling her sleeves up, “I love putting furniture together!”

Stannis swallowed. Would he be able to act like a normal human being with her working with him in such close proximity?

Unfortunately it seemed that Sansa was not going to wait for a response. She was already looking at the instructions, the remaining unused screws, and the progress he had made so far.

“I think you used the wrong screws on page two,” Sansa said after barely glancing at the flimsy paper manual.

“I know,” Stannis sighed, “I was just about to pull the stupid thing apart.” Due to his annoyance with the meatball-scented wardrobe he was forgetting that he wasn’t usually able to speak so easily when Sansa was near him. He hadn’t been able to ever since he saw her at a dinner party at Robert’s house two years ago. She had been wearing a very small dress and had been draped all over Joffrey like some sort of decoration. If he hadn’t already hated Joffrey for various reasons, he would have started to hate Joffrey out of pure unadulterated jealousy after seeing that.

“I have to go do my homework,” Shireen said, shooting him another disgusted look and flouncing off.

Stannis had always been very proud of how clever and observant his daughter was, but it was proving to be rather embarrassing now that she could so easily tell that he was lusting after a girl only three years older than herself.

“Here,” Sansa handed him the manual and picked up the electric screwdriver.

Within minutes she had disassembled the wardrobe and sorted the screws out, making neat little piles that corresponded to the different pages of the instruction manual.

Stannis was very grateful when she then proceeded to hand him the correct screws and help him hold the different parts of the wardrobe together while he operated the screwdriver, allowing him to feel a little bit useful and manly. Operating the screwdriver also gave him something to focus on other than how wonderful Sansa smelled, and how her T-shirt rode up whenever she bent over or stretched to reach the next pile of screws.

Still, he couldn’t help the inappropriate erection that was pressing up against the crotch of his jeans. All this _screwing_ with Sansa around was somehow very erotic, and she was always _smiling_ at him. The pressure of his arousal was uncomfortable enough on its own, but the agony of not knowing whether Sansa would _notice_ made it even worse. He was probably completely red in the face, but with any luck Sansa would chalk that up to the strain of the work they were doing.

Thankfully said work was done surprisingly quickly, and soon they were standing back and admiring their handywork. Sansa did not appear interested in looking at his groin while there was a wardrobe to examine, and Stannis tried to breathe normally.

“It looks great!” Sansa exclaimed happily, “it will be perfect for my dresses and my shoes. I should probably pick up a chest of drawers for some of my other stuff, though.”

Stannis felt himself blanch at the thought of putting more furniture together.

Sansa laughed when she saw his expression. “I’ll sleep on it,” she promised with a wide, blinding smile.

For a second Stannis thought she was implying that she wanted to sleep on a chest of drawers, but then he realised she was going to sleep on the issue of whether she needed one.

He nodded at her, feeling a bit dazed.

Sansa continued to smile at him, but before Stannis could gather his thoughts and attempt to say something intelligent, Shireen burst in and asked what was for dinner. Sansa seemed surprised at how late it was, made her excuses, thanked Stannis warmly for being willing to let her a room, and left.

“Let’s just order out,” Stannis said to Shireen, feeling much too tired to even think about cooking.

***

It had taken a few weeks, but Stannis was finally accustomed to seeing Sansa nearly every day. She was a very considerate tenant, and never really made any noise or caused him any trouble. She even helped Shireen with her literature and history homework, giving him more time to deal with his usual work emergencies. (He was pants at literature, anyway, and could never be of much help to Shireen in that department.)

The weekends were the hardest.

Shireen always stayed with Selyse on weekends, and Sansa did not seem to be the sort of girl who went out very much. Well, she went to the gym, and shopping, and to meet friends for coffee, but she never went anywhere in the evenings. She stayed at the apartment and sometimes she _cooked_.

It would be rude not to eat with her when she went to that sort of trouble, so Stannis often ended up spending one night a week sitting across from the most beautiful girl in Westeros, enjoying a home-cooked meal and listening to her talk about whatever was on her mind that day. He relished these evenings with her, and he desperately hoped she couldn’t tell how intently he always imagined that they were on a date together.

On one such night Stannis noticed that Sansa was not entirely her usual cheerful self. It went against his nature to pry, but eventually his curiosity and the long, awkward silences prompted him to speak.

“Is something wrong?” he blurted out, wincing at his bluntness.

Sansa’s eyebrows shot up and she blinked so rapidly at him that it made him want to squeeze his own eyes shut.

“No,” she answered quickly, staring down at her plate and pushing the untouched food around with her fork.

“You’re very quiet,” he said, feeling heat creep into his cheeks and wishing he hadn’t said anything.

Sansa considered him for a long moment.

“A boy asked me out,” she admitted with a pink blush, watching him carefully to gauge his reaction.

He stared at her blankly, feeling a horrible dread wash over him.

“I know you probably think it’s stupid of me to be out of sorts over it,” Sansa sighed, obviously misinterpreting his silent horror.

“No - er - I mean… what did you say to him?”

“I said I’d think about it.”

Stannis clenched his jaw and tried not to look too distraught. He did not want Sansa to date some _boy._ He wanted to keep her to himself.

“I just remembered I have to answer an urgent email,” he invented, needing an excuse to go and calm himself down before he said or did something ridiculous.

***

After Sansa told him about the _boy_ Stannis spent an entire week on pins and needles, trying to figure out whether she had accepted the boy’s offer to take her out or not. When the next weekend rolled around and Sansa did not appear to be planning to leave the apartment much at all, Stannis breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

At the present moment Stannis was unloading groceries, feeling pleased that Sansa had asked if he would mind getting some ingredients for a new recipe she wanted to try. He put the last of the food away and picked up the shower gel he had purchased, walking to the bathroom to put it away.

The door swung open just as it had a thousand times before, but unlike every other time he had opened this door there was someone on the other side. There was steam on the mirror and a damp towel on the floor. There were long bare legs and tiny blue panties, perfect breasts encased in a matching blue brassiere, parted pink lips, and wide blue eyes.

“Fuck,” he said before his brain could censor the word, “I’m sorry,” he added, turning his back on her, feeling his face heat up and his cock stiffen.

“It’s okay,” Sansa said easily, “I’ve worn bikinis that show more skin.”

“Is the lock broken?” Stannis asked, wondering why he had been able to open the door at all.

“No, I unlocked the door once I was dressed in case you came home from the store and really needed to pee,” Sansa said, the smile in her voice audible.

She called what she was wearing being _dressed?_

“Considerate of you,” he choked out.

“I can put that away for you if you like,” Sansa offered.

Before he realised he’d done it he had turned around so that he would better be able to understand what she meant. She was holding her hand out, waiting to receive the shower gel he was still clutching.

Seeing her wearing so little was draining all the blood from his brain, causing him to somehow think that taking a step forward and handing Sansa the bath product was a good idea.

Sansa’s eyes darted down towards what had to be a rather obvious bulge in his trousers, because she blushed very deeply as she accepted the bottle from his hand.

Now that he had been relieved of his purpose for being in the steamy room with Sansa, he stood frozen, unable to move or speak.

“Um,” she began hesitantly, “did you need the bathroom?”

He came back to life and shook his head firmly. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, “I’ll go now.”

Stannis didn’t quite run from the bathroom, but it was a close thing.


	2. A Distinct Lack of Screwing Problems

Stannis’ life was full of routines. Even wanking had been routine before Sansa moved in. He had found his release every three or four days or so in his morning shower, sometimes while thinking about sex, sometimes while idly organising the day ahead. It was a physical itch that required scratching, and Stannis had never given it too much thought.

Since Sansa had moved in he had been scratching that particular itch every single morning, and now that he’d seen her practically _naked,_ his memories of the event had him stroking himself at night, too.

He had imagined every possible avenue he could have explored instead of running away from the bathroom, but his favourite version of the fantasy was one where he picked her up, walked to his bedroom and threw her on his bed and fucked her in every conceivable position until she screamed herself hoarse with pleasure. A close second had to do with her simply sinking to her knees the moment he walked in on her and taking him in her mouth.

It was Sunday and Stannis had gone to bed early. Sansa had been doing yoga that afternoon, and he felt the need to revisit the memory of her very tight exercise wear while safely ensconced in his room.

His fantasy was just beginning when there was a soft knock on his door. It had to be Sansa as Shireen always stayed with Selyse until Monday morning. Stannis let go of his cock with a pang of guilty shame and wondered what he should do. Pretend to be asleep?

“Stannis? Are you awake?”

“Barely,” he lied, trying to make his voice sound more sleepy than panicked.

“Can I come in?” She was already opening the door.

Stannis rushed to sit up and arrange his covers so that nothing could be seen.

“Why not?” he grumbled, shooting her an irritated glare as she flooded his dark bedroom with the light from the hallway.

She was wearing loose-fitting pyjama bottoms that were indecently short and a flimsy halter top. Had he not been hard already he would be at the sight of her. Seven _hells,_ were those her nipples? Her top did nothing to hide the fact that she was apparently a little cold.

Sansa sat down on the edge of his bed as if it were the most normal thing in the world and not as if her physical proximity was making his cock twitch and jump alarmingly.

“I feel like you’re avoiding me,” she said softly, “am I imagining things?”

He _had_ been avoiding her a little ever since he had seen her in her underwear. It was a self-preservation tactic and Stannis had hoped she wouldn’t notice.

“This is very inappropriate,” he said, wondering if any other landlords had this problem of their tenants bursting into their bedrooms at night wearing scandalously small pyjamas.

“I know,” Sansa said, looking down at her hands, “I’m sorry.” She made no move to leave.

“You really shouldn’t be in here,” he said hoarsely, unable to tear his eyes away from the peaks of her breasts.

“Just tell me what I did to offend you,” Sansa implored.

“Nothing,” he insisted, “please leave.”

“I don’t believe you.” She crossed her arms under her breasts, pushing them up and creating the sort of cleavage that is impossible to look away from.

“Uh,” he managed, sounding strangled and utterly dim-witted.

With an enormous amount of willpower Stannis dragged his eyes up to Sansa’s face. She looked confused, amused and exasperated all at once.

“Please tell me.”

The dam that held _everything_ at bay inside his head suddenly burst.

“I’ve been avoiding you because I want to _fuck_ you,” he admitted, his voice cracking as he grabbed fistfuls of his bedcovers and crushed them in an attempt to keep from grabbing Sansa, “I can’t think about anything else when I’m near you.”

“Oh, thank gods,” Sansa said, sounding relieved, “I’ve been waiting for you to make a move ever since we put the wardrobe in my room together.” As soon as she had spoken she crawled over to him, straddling his thighs and cautiously seeking his lips with her own. The kiss was tentative at first, but soon turned into an aggressive clash of tongues and teeth. Stannis let go of the bedclothes in favour of wrapping his arms around Sansa and pulling her as close as he could. Her body felt _perfect_ against his, and he doubted he would ever be able to let her go.

“Why since then?” he asked when their lips broke apart so they could catch their breaths.

“You had a massive hard-on,” Sansa giggled, reaching under the covers for his current hard-on and finding him very receptive to her touch.

“You noticed?” he groaned as she started to fondle his balls, leaving his aching cock alone.

“I’m not _blind._ ”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he asked, groaning again as she moved her hand to his shaft, starting to stroke him much too gently.

“You seemed embarrassed,” she said and shrugged.

“Because it was embarrassing,” Stannis ground out, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as Sansa made her grip firmer and sped up slightly.

“I thought it was hot,” Sansa breathed into his ear, her breath tickling him and making him thrust his hips involuntarily. Sansa smiled at his reaction and kissed him quickly, not giving him an opportunity to deepen it. She started to move down his body, kissing his neck, collarbones, pectorals, and abdomen lightly before finding his cock and starting to kiss that, too. At first he hadn’t wanted to release his hold on her to allow her move down, but her lips had convinced him, and he was not regretting his decision _at all._

“Fuck, fuck, _fuck!_ ” Stannis gasped out, not knowing what to do with himself. Never in his wildest fantasies had he ever considered that Sansa would _actually want to do this in real life._

Sansa licked the head of his cock and looked up at him with heat in her eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you swear so much,” she said with an amused smirk.

Seeing her look up at him with her lips so near his desperate erection was the most erotic thing he had ever beheld. “Please,” he moaned, wanting - no - _needing_ her to suck him.

She swirled her tongue around the tip and then she enveloped it with her lips, the heat, the wetness and the softness of her mouth making him squeeze his eyes shut and emit a noise that sounded suspiciously like a whimper. He buried his hands in her hair, carefully pressing her down in an attempt to show her what he wanted. She responded by releasing him from her mouth and sitting up.

“Don’t do that,” she ordered with a glare, “either trust me to do it my way, or live without my mouth down there.”

Stannis blanched and held his hands up in the universally recognised sign of surrender. “I’m sorry,” he hastened to apologise, “what would you like me to do with my hands?”

“You can stroke my hair or just keep it out of my face, but don’t push.”

Stannis nodded quickly, agreeing to her terms. Sansa’s glare vanished as if it had never been there, and she smiled at him.

“Good. I’m glad you understand because I really want to do this for you,” she said flirtatiously, lowering her lips to his groin again. Stannis quickly gathered her loose hair in his hands and kept the strands from getting in Sansa’s way.

It was difficult to keep from pressing her head down to get her to accept more of his cock into her mouth, but he didn’t want her to stop again, so he controlled the urge. Everything she did felt wonderful, but it was not _enough_ , so he was soon using his words to vocalise what he wanted instead of his hands.

“Please take more, Sansa, _please,_ ” he moaned, abandoning his pride to beg.

So far she had been focusing exclusively on licking and sucking the head of his cock, stroking his shaft lazily with one hand and driving him insane with need.

She made him beg for a little while longer before finally - _finally_ \- starting to suck more of his cock into her mouth.

“Fuck, _yes!_ ” he cried out in relief, loving the heat of it and watching eagerly as more and more of his shaft disappeared between her lips. She was looking up at him, her mouth full and a teasing glint in her eyes that made him want to come right there and then, and Stannis had to concentrate even harder on just stroking her hair gently and making sure no stray locks tickled her face. He could tell that she would not be able to take any more of him in without opening her throat for business, and as she had stopped it did not seem like she was about to do that. Some primitive part of him was demanding for him to hold her head steady so that he could just fuck her throat, but every civilised bone in his body thought it was a distasteful and horrible idea.

Sansa started to bob her head, releasing his cock and then sucking it back in as deep as she could comfortably take it, stroking the rest of his shaft with her hand as she worked. It was _heaven._

“Gods, yes, Sansa! Fucking… _gods._ Suck it, suck it, oh...”

He had absolutely no control of the words that were pouring out of him, but he quickly realised that she sucked harder when he spoke, so he kept going, not caring that he probably sounded ridiculous.

All too soon he could feel his balls tightening up and his breath catching in his throat as he teetered on the edge of completion. It was the most glorious sensation in the world to be dancing right on that fine line before climax, Sansa’s mouth coaxing it from him even as he tried to prolong the ecstasy of it by keeping himself at bay.

He came with a groan and a drawn out swear word, his eyes closed and his body trembling as Sansa - the minx - raked her fingernails over his inner thighs and his abdomen, causing his toes to curl in pleasure and his cock to pulse and twitch in her mouth. She swallowed everything he gave her very neatly, licking the divot at the tip until he was clean, and then she sucked on his sensitive balls just to tease him. He didn’t understand why she didn’t stop, but he was too spent to question her, too lost in a haze of bliss to even _move._

After a moment he understood what she was doing -- she was licking him back to life. 

She wanted him fully hard again. Not that she’d given him a chance to get limp...

The thought that she wanted to do _more_ with him was deeply arousing, and soon his blood was rushing south again, pooling in his groin and pumping into the shaft Sansa was patiently licking. She gave him the lazy smile of the cat who got the cream when he was utterly rigid and twitching under her lips, and sat up with a playful glint in her eyes.

Before he knew it she had crossed her arms over her torso and lifted her top over her head, exposing her breasts to him.

“Seven fucking hells,” he moaned, unable to keep from staring like an imbecile.

Sansa smiled at him and stood up so that she could shimmy her indecent shorts to the floor, revealing herself to be naked underneath.

She was like something out of a painting or a dream, and Stannis knew he was gaping at her now, but he couldn’t make himself stop. There was so much flawless skin on display, such superbly shaped curves and _beautiful_ details. He did not think he had ever seen such a perfectly formed bellybutton, nor such exquisite nipples. He wanted to fill his hands with her breasts and his mouth with her skin, and he wanted to fill _her_ with his cock. He was burning for her, and he could tell that she was completely aware of the fact.

“What are you thinking about?” Sansa asked coyly, returning to straddle him and quite deliberately placing her breasts right in front of his face.

He glanced up at her and opened his mouth dumbly. What did she _think_ he was thinking about?

“Are you thinking about how you want to fuck me?” she whispered, stroking the back of his head and pulling him towards her chest until his nose was buried between her perfectly round, soft tits.

“Mmnyes,” he said, his voice muffled in the best of ways.

“So? What are you going to do about it?” There was a playful challenge in her tone.

Stannis reluctantly pulled away from her so that he might look her in the eyes. “Lie down.” He wasn’t sure if it was an order or a request, but Sansa complied happily enough.

He remained sitting for a short while, admiring the way Sansa looked lying naked in his bed. He wanted to remember this image forever.

Feeling suddenly nervous, he reached for her thighs. “May I?” he asked, absurdly polite.

Sansa just gave him a devious smile and opened her legs for him, encouraging him with a look to touch her.

His mouth felt dry as his fingers came into contact with the soft skin of her inner thigh, and his eyes kept darting back and forth from the inviting folds at the apex of her thighs to her smiling face.

He wondered what she tasted like and unconsciously licked his lips. _Well, it would only be polite to return the favour, wouldn’t it?_

Forcing himself to move much more slowly than he wanted to, he started to kiss his way from her knees, up along her inner thighs, and towards his goal. Sansa was making very attractive sounds and moving her thighs further apart to give him better access. She obviously approved of what he was doing. The scent of her became stronger the closer he got, and he was starting to look forward to licking at her hairless sex. He doubted he would have minded much if she weren’t neatly waxed, but it would be interesting to taste her without any obstructions in his way.

At his first tentative lick Sansa _gasped._ She tasted tangy and a little sharp, but it was not an unpleasant flavour. He flattened his tongue and began to patiently drag it from her entrance and up towards her mound, knowing that she would most likely need a steady rhythm and a bit of time. She was keeping her legs well apart, but he could tell that they were trembling slightly. He used his hands to knead the soft flesh of her thighs, hoping to add to her pleasure and to discourage her from crushing his head between them.

After a while Sansa started to chant for more. “Please, please, please,” she moaned, a delicate hand touching the back of his head gently. He understood that she was ready for him to focus his attention on the sensitive, swollen place near her mound, and obediently went to do as she clearly wished. She was crying out before he even got properly started, and by the time he started to suck at her she was nearly _screaming._

He thought about how ridiculously wet he must be making her and sucked a little harder, looking forward to putting his cock inside her. He knew she would feel utterly magnificent after all this, and she’d likely be sensitive enough to keep coming as he fucked her. His cock was twitching madly at these illicit thoughts, and as soon as Sansa’s cries started to fade he gave her one last decisive lick and hurried to get on top of her.

“Birth control?” he asked before putting his cock anywhere near her entrance. _Please let her be on the pill,_ he thought, remembering that the condoms in his possession were probably well past their use by date.

“I have an IUD,” Sansa said, tugging on his shoulders and trying to bring him closer. He was hovering over her, but keeping his lower body from touching hers.

“Is it okay if I go without a condom? I don’t have anything,” he asked, his voice strained and his body tense with the effort of keeping his hips from surging forwards.

“Yes, it’s fine, just _please,_ ” Sansa whimpered, dragging her nails across his back in a way that made him shudder with pleasure.

He didn’t need her to repeat her request, even though it was quite empowering to hear her beg him to fuck her. With a little help from his hand, he guided the head of his cock - already sticky with precome - to her soaking entrance. The head slipped inside without much effort, but it was surprisingly difficult to get the rest of the way inside. He was required to thrust quite firmly to squeeze inside her tight sheath, and he glanced worriedly at her face, wondering if he was hurting her. Her brow was a little furrowed, but she was clutching at his shoulder and moaning with pleasure, so he deduced that she was enjoying herself.

“Are you okay?” he choked out once he was buried to the hilt, needing to make quite sure she was not in any pain. Gods, she was _ridiculously tight._

“Mm, yes,” Sansa moaned, opening her eyes to give him a reassuring look, “you feel amazing.” She did something that made her inner walls clench up and wrapped her legs around him to encourage him to move.

A highly embarrassing strangled noise escaped his throat, and he began to thrust without any further ado. It was pleasure unlike anything he had ever known. She was wet, warm and utterly pliant, and she was moaning his name as if he were some sort of god, encouraging him to move quickly from the shallow thrusts he had started with to deeper, more powerful ones. Before he knew what had happened he was balancing on his knees with her legs resting against his chest, practically pounding himself into her with all the force he could muster. From his vantage point he was afforded a very nice view of Sansa on her back, her hair fanned over his pillow, her skin flushed and her breasts jiggling in time with each impact of his body against hers. The sight combined with her increasingly pornographic moans was so incredibly erotic that despite his previous release he felt himself hurtling unstoppably towards a second climax.

“Fuck, fuck, _Sansa!_ ”

Sansa squealed and clenched up so tightly that even if he hadn’t been right on the edge of his orgasm, the sensation would had him coming his brains out. His hips continued to thrust as he rode out his release, and Sansa kept _clenching._ When he managed to open his eyes he saw that she seemed to be in the middle of her own peak, and he stubbornly kept moving, even though he knew his cock would be softening soon.

Eventually he lost the ability to keep going, and he pulled out with a slightly unpleasant wet noise, rolling to lie beside her and attempt to catch his breath.

They were quiet for a little while, but Sansa broke the silence before it could get awkward.

“Wow,” she said with a laugh, “that was worth the wait.”

Stannis felt himself redden, but a smug, gratified feeling quickly overpowered his embarrassment. “Yes,” he agreed hoarsely.

They lay there for a little longer, but much too soon Sansa excused herself to go clean up. He had his turn after she was done, but they ended up back in bed, because Sansa insisted that she wanted to _cuddle_.

Stannis was not much of a cuddler. The mere _word_ sounded absurd to his ears, but he could not deny her anything in the state she had left him in. Anyway, it felt quite nice to have Sansa’s naked body pressed so intimately against his own.

“So, um,” Sansa mumbled against his chest, “was this a one time thing for you?”

“Do you want it to be?” he asked, willing her to say no.

“I was kind of hoping we could do this in my room, too. And maybe in the kitchen? And the living room?” There was a teasing lilt to her voice.

“Tonight?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Sansa laughed, but then she gave him mock-serious look. “Do you think you _could?_ ” she teased.

He glared at her, but there was no true irritation behind it.

She giggled and shook her head. “No, I meant… just whenever.”

“I suppose that could be arranged,” he answered slowly, tightening his hold on her a little.

She made a happy sort of noise that sounded a little like ‘yay’, and Stannis felt the corners of his lips twitch in response.

This was probably a terrible idea, but for once in his life he found himself not caring one whit about the consequences.


	3. Screwing Complications

As Stannis had been too - er - _distracted_ to remember to set his alarm, he ended up oversleeping by rather a lot on Monday morning. Instead of getting up at five thirty like he was wont to do, he didn’t stir until _seven._

He found himself in the unfamiliar situation of not wanting to leave his bed despite being horribly behind schedule. It was nice to wake up with his arms full of naked girl. Naked Sansa, to be precise. He reeled her in until she was flush against him, her back to his front. It felt utterly satisfying to hold her so close and he allowed himself a moment to simply be, and to revel in the full body contact. She was warm in that perfect way people only are right before they wake up, and he found himself hoping that she would elect to sleep in his bed a lot more often.

“Mm,” Sansa mumbled, “hello?”

“Hello,” he answered, squeezing her a little more tightly and searching for her breasts under the covers. Hopefully she wouldn’t mind if he copped a feel.

She let out a muffled squeal of delight when his fingers sought out a nipple, and wriggled her arse against his groin distractingly.

“What time is it?” she asked, her voice hoarse with sleep.

“Seven,” he told her, still teasing the nipple he had found.

“When do you have to get up?” she asked, wriggling her arse some more and tempting his body into meeting her movements with his hips. It felt _decadent_ to grind his morning wood against her.

“An hour and a half ago.”

“Oh.” She stopped wriggling.

“I usually go running before work,” he explained, “but I can go for a quick run on my lunch break. It’s fine.”

“So… when do you actually have to be at work?”

“I’m usually there at eight.”

“Oh.”

“But I don’t technically have to be there until nine.”

“Is that so?” She sounded very interested, and started to turn around to face him. He was reluctant to release his hold on her, but the prospect of seeing her face convinced him to let go. She was looking at him with a very flirtatious smile, and a _very_ suggestive gleam in her eyes.

Somehow she ended up straddling him and filling herself with his cock while he groped her arse like a complete pervert. He didn’t know where to look as her face, her breasts and the place where they were joined all had things going for them. Her face, of course, was both beautiful and expressive; showing him exactly how much she was enjoying the ride. Her breasts were bouncing in time with her movements, which aside from being quite hypnotising, was tempting him to cup the lovely mounds and play with her little pink nipples. As soon as he started to touch her nipples, however, she sped up and started to rise up until only the head of his cock remained inside of her, only to sink back down with wild abandon. He had to assume that his touch was somehow encouraging her to do this, so his hands remained where they were even as his eyes were drawn to his own cock. The way Sansa was fucking herself on it was both fascinating and erotic, and he used quite a lot of self restraint to keep from thrusting up because he rather liked watching her do the work.

Of course, there was only a very small part of his brain that was actually processing of any of this. Most of his brain was busy sorting through the intense signals of pure pleasure it was receiving from every sensory organ he possessed.

Just the noises she was making would have been enough to fuel his fantasies for the next three years.

When she started to grind against him, fast and hard, he couldn’t do anything except clutch at her hips and try to keep from coming right then and there. He could tell she was close, so he was gritting his teeth and stubbornly teetering on the edge. The way she was moving was stimulating the sensitive head of his cock extremely intensely, however, so he wasn’t able to last for very long.

He bucked up as he started to come, but Sansa just squeezed her eyes shut and moved even faster.

“Ah, _ah_ , gods, _Stannis!_ ”

Her inner muscles clamped down and he felt like his orgasm was being _endlessly_ drawn out. He thought he heard himself moaning her name, but he might have been saying just about anything at all.

It took them a while to recover, but eventually they stumbled to the bathroom and had a very distracting shower together. Stannis wished he were younger so that he could get hard again without assistance and fuck her against the tiles, but he made do with groping her and sucking on her neck as if he were a teenager instead. Sansa encouraged him with gleeful delight.

“Mm, I love the way you’re touching me,” she told him when he was busy kneading a breast with one hand and squeezing her left buttock with the other.

He unglued his mouth from her neck. “Like what?” he asked, his voice at least an octave or two lower than it should be.

“Like you’re horny,” she giggled, “it’s sexy.”

He didn’t know whether to feel embarrassed or turned on, so he just kissed her.

As Sansa didn’t have any classes until the afternoon, she left him with sole custody of the bathroom after their shower so that he could shave and get himself presentable for work. He hoped the two hickeys she had left him with were low enough on his neck to be hidden by a shirt.

“I’ll make some breakfast,” Sansa said, wrapping herself in a towel and heading for the door. There was a pretty big hickey on one side of her neck, too. This pleased him immensely for some reason.

By the time he finished getting ready for work, there was a very tempting smell of eggs and freshly brewed tea coming from the kitchen. He hurriedly knotted his tie and grabbed his briefcase, heading for the source of the delicious scents.

His cock twitched at the sight he was greeted with in the kitchen.

Sansa was wearing one of his dress shirts and apparently not much else. She was just putting buttered toast and scrambled eggs on a plate, and there was already a full plate on the kitchen table, along with two steaming cups of tea.

“Black with a slice of lemon,” Sansa said, pointing at the cup that was placed where he usually sat. She pecked him on the cheek and handed him the plate she had just finished preparing.

Stannis sat down in a daze, staring at Sansa the whole time. She was putting everything she had used to make their breakfast away, and when she reached to put the salt and pepper back into the cupboard over the stove, the shirt she had borrowed rode up to reveal a glimpse of her bare arse.

He had to look away because he was dangerously close to erection territory. Thankfully he had some eggs to busy himself with.

They ate in companionable silence, but when they had finished Sansa rose up to sit on his lap without a single word of explanation. He opened his mouth, possibly to thank her for cooking, but found himself with Sansa’s tongue getting in the way of any such politeness.

Right when Stannis was contemplating whether he should just call in sick, the front door opened and closed with the customary noise front doors tended to make.

“Oh, did someone make eggs?” Shireen’s voice carried from the hallway, every word sounding as if she were coming closer to the kitchen.

Stannis panicked and pushed Sansa off his lap. Her reflexes were fairly good, however, so she avoided ending up in a heap on the floor. Instead she was standing awkwardly next to him when Shireen came into the kitchen, pulling the bottom of her borrowed shirt down a little self-consciously. 

“ _Dad!_ ” Shireen’s eyes had gone as round and big as saucers. “Ew, ew, ew!” She turned around and fled the kitchen.

Stannis closed his eyes and hid his face in his hands, groaning with a mixture of embarrassment and exasperation. How could he have forgotten that Selyse always dropped Shireen off at the apartment on Monday mornings? Stannis thought it would be more practical if Selyse dropped Shireen off at school, but Shireen always insisted she needed to come to apartment to put her stuff away first. Of course, Stannis was usually never home for this.

“Oops,” Sansa said, sitting back down in her own seat, “that was not ideal.”

Stannis groaned again to signal his agreement with her assessment. He was leaning his elbows on the table, face still buried in his hands.

“What should we tell her?” Sansa asked, sounding subdued.

“I don’t know,” he moaned, already envisioning what everyone in his life would say if this got out.

“Maybe I was a little short on rent?” Sansa suggested in a brave attempt at humour. He looked up so that he could shoot her a quelling look.

“I’ll handle it,” he sighed, getting to his feet and feeling like he was about to undergo torture, “you should probably get dressed.” It pained him to suggest it, as he would happily have let her waltz around his apartment in nothing but one of his shirts for the rest of her life if that was what she wanted.

Sansa blushed faintly and nodded.

Stannis knocked on Shireen’s bedroom door, half hoping that she would refuse to talk to him so that he would be able to put this awkward conversation off.

“Come in,” Shireen said in a very grumpy tone of voice that reminded him irresistibly of himself.

Stannis entered his daughter’s room and leaned the door almost shut behind him. Shutting it completely would have felt a little too much like cutting off his escape route.

Shireen was sitting on the floor in front of her bed, leaning back against the bedframe. He sat down beside her.

“Er,” he eloquently began, “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“Not as sorry as I am,” Shireen groused.

“Yes, well.”

There was an awkward silence.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Shireen suddenly snapped, “she’s only three years older than I am!”

Stannis winced.

“Is this some sort of midlife crisis? Because I thought those only happened in films.”

“I don’t know what to say,” he admitted, rubbing his freshly shaved face with both hands, “I like Sansa.”

“I like her, too,” Shireen said, her voice becoming rather shrill, “but you don’t see me dressing her in my clothes and leaving massive hickeys on her neck!”

Stannis winced again and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Again, I’m sorry you had to see that. We will be more circumspect in the future.”

“In the future?!” Shireen yelped, “are you in some kind of sick relationship now?”

“Mind your tone,” Stannis snapped, his patience eroding, “Sansa and I are consenting adults. There is nothing _sick_ about this. We like each other and we will most likely be spending some time together in the future. I won’t ask you to like it, but I do expect you to be respectful.”

“Ew,” Shireen said pointedly, glaring at him and looking utterly disgusted.

“Say that again and I will take your Kindle away for a month,” Stannis threatened.

Shireen’s lips thinned until they were only a tight straight line.

“Promise me you won’t be rude to Sansa about this,” he asked, fixing his daughter with a stern look.

She glared at him before looking away and huffing out an irritated breath. “Fine.”

“And, er... “ Stannis felt very uncomfortable with making this request, but he couldn’t risk _not_ making it, “if you could avoid telling your mother about this quite yet, I would be grateful.”

“Whatever.”

He sensed that he would not be getting a more definitive response, so he decided to get to his feet. There was not much more to say.

He had almost made it to the door when Shireen spoke.

“If I have to listen to you guys fuck every night I’m moving in with Mum.”

Stannis flinched and did not turn to face Shireen.

“Noted,” he said through gritted teeth, deciding to let her profanity slide since she was probably very upset with him.

As he left his daughter’s room and closed the door behind him, he couldn’t help but feel he had just escaped some sort of death trap.

He wandered back to the kitchen, wanting to finish the dregs of his undoubtedly cold tea.

Sansa was sitting in her usual seat, wearing a dressing gown and frowning faintly. She gave him an anxious look as soon as she saw him. “Is she okay?”

“She’ll be fine.” _I hope._

“Do you still want to…” Sansa bit her lip, “you know?”

“Yes,” he answered a little too quickly. Sansa did not seem to think it was a bad thing, however. She smiled at him and looked intensely relieved.

“I would have understood if you didn’t,” she said, still smiling, “but I’m glad you still want to.”

“Yes,” he agreed, “I’m glad, too.”

To his great surprise he realised that he was telling the complete truth. Despite the fact that his daughter seemed to think he was a dirty old man, he _was_ glad.

“So…” Sansa shot him a wicked grin, “my room next weekend?”

**The end**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to everyone who took the time to comment! You guys are the best. ♥


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